frankly my dear, I don't give a damn
by Limited Heart
Summary: Jeremie, a prodigy at the helm of a billion dollar tech empire with zero social skills. Aelita, a computer engineering sophomore in desperate need of an internship. What could go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

frankly my dear, I don't give a damn

one

—

At nineteen, Jeremie Belpois had quite a few things to recommend him:

For one, he was a prodigal youth at the helm of a billion dollar empire.

Secondly, when it came to the market, his decisions were quick and ruthless and rarely off point.

Thirdly, he needed an intern.

So Aelita brushed her bubblegum hair and tried to pin it down into some semblance of order, slipped on her most 'serious about being serious' cardigan, and checked her portfolio for the thirteenth time. She warily eyed the scruff on the toe of her oxfords and ignored the throb of the migraine tickling her temple.

Aelita had stayed awake the majority of the night reading up on Jeremie Belpois: his childhood, his family, the current board members of the company, the direction of the market…

Surprisingly there was little about the man himself - if you could call him a man, Aelita thought with a smirk.

Nineteen, blond, scrawny, wore glasses and always appeared distinctly bored in all of the photographs Aelita had found.

Maybe he needed a friend? Maybe he actually hated working at the company and had been dreaming of running away to be a painter, a sculptor … Aelita invented fiction upon fiction as the train made it's way downtown.

She imagined a universe where they would bump into each other in the lobby of the fifty floor building his father's company occupied. She'd apologize for being so clumsy, and he would be struck by how awkward she was, in that movie type of way where awkward girls were also impossibly beautiful.

Aelita looked at the fraying hem of her skirt and swept that fantasy out of her head.

Her looks weren't what she was banking on, it was her head. And if that failed her, at least her stubbornness.

The train unceremoniously arrived at her stop, and with a heavy breath, Aelita stepped through the doors and into what she hoped was her future.

—

From the fiftieth floor, Jeremie stared at his computer screen unceremoniously. He was entertaining a few thoughts simultaneously, none of certain importance or priority. Whirring distractions from the fact that for eight weeks he would have to tolerate some simpering idiot, fresh out of university or - to further his angst - _still_ in school.

There were reports to analyze, board meetings to attend, departments to be restructured … An endless litany of things he hated but still preferred to the thought of an intern.

The windows on this floor stretched from the ceiling to the floor, prisms of light as the morning sun filtered in.

He had already interviewed with roughly twenty applicants. Hopeful, eager, insecure, some smirking, projecting their parent's connections as they walked through the door ignorant to how he loathed such presumptions.

And from the corner, to keep him in check, hung the portrait of his father, now stifled beneath the dirt and moss of the earth.

His mind began to whirl again, calculating the amount of time he was wasting on his useless future protégé.

The death was recent, and as Jeremie tapped his knuckles on the oak of his desk, he thought without fury or sadness - not recent enough.

It was this apathy that kept him keen, anchored to the earth, sharp and ready. The old man was a peace of work, and with his habits, it was due time that he exited the world.

At this, Jeremie opened the bottom drawer of his desk, and watched the sun catch the glass of bottle upon bottle of whiskey.

Yes, the cleaning crew had missed this, and Jeremie closed the drawer swiftly.

He had inherited everything - the company, the money, the board members, vultures swooping at his crown and fortune, and even the ghosts of empty liquor bottles and long nights.

Jeremie felt his mind focus, grow silent. He sat at his desk, fingers deft and quick over the keyboard. The clicking of the keys soothed him as he drafted a proposal. He quickly pulled reports from their tracking software - created by their own engineers, Jeremie thought with pride - layering them one over the other on the multiple displays in front of him.

This was the feeling he craved, the complete and utter emptiness of feeling. The tight control, the cold security of logic.

"Mr. Belpois?"

Jeremie looked up, and his face must have conveyed his annoyance because his secretary shirked. His tone was unforgiving. "What is it?"

She flushed, at least thirty years his senior, and his father's secretary. Jeremie wondered if she hated him, if she missed his father. Or maybe she was relieved. What did it matter, after all?

"Your eleven o'clock. Miss Schaeffer has arrived."

Schaeffer, German. He couldn't recall any families in his circle with that surname. Not upper class then, but of modest means, surely.

Regardless, still a waste of his time. Time that had to be wasted, mainly due to a clause in his inheritance that required he participate in this internship program to improve the company's public image.

At least it gave him someone else he could watch as his own intellect flew far above their comprehension. As they tried to please him or worse, befriend him.

"Let him pass."

Something flew across his secretary's face, as if she wanted to say something, but she thought better of it and nodded.

Jeremie opened a game of minesweeper and folded his hands over his keyboard. At least he could entertain himself.

His secretary promptly returned and Jeremie forced himself to look up from his game.

His eyebrow rose as he saw the candidate.

A slip of a girl, bright hair, rosy cheeks and dark, impossibly round eyes.

"Excuse me," he said suddenly. "Are you lost?"

Surely at least the level of competency in the Human Resources department was enough to field candidates of appropriate age.

She seemed as if she was caught by surprise but her astonishingly pink mouth firmed into a scowl.

"No." Her tone did not leave room for disagreement, which strangely relaxed Jeremie. Not a worthy contender, never worthy, but perhaps he could put minesweeper away.

Yes, she was somewhat pretty, if jailbait was your thing, and assuming she could keep this attitude up, he might actually consider -

"Should I sit down?"

She looked uncertain, but with a level of composure he hadn't seen in some of the most senior board members of the company. It wasn't arrogance, it was just sheer determination. An inability to relinquish control.

 _Ah._

"Yes," Jeremie replied, closing his laptop completely.

This could be interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

Hi everyone! I'm not dead and neither is this story. I uploaded this chapter to AO3 a while back but forgot to post it here - sorry! New chapter coming soon :)

* * *

"Exactly how old are you?"

Her eyes had a curious sheen to them, they were bright with nervousness. Jeremie bit back a smirk, he could always identify prey at first glance. At his question, they slanted in annoyance and her mouth pouted. For a moment Jeremie paused - it was not typical of him to pay such close attention to the face of another person, unless he was searching for a lie. This girl was of no consequence and even if she did lie about her connections or her experience - none of it had any influence on his world and therefore not worthy of his scrutiny. And yet …

"Old enough to know that it's illegal to ask a candidate their age," she replied cooly. "Also, isn't that a bit rude?"

Jeremie's amusement rose. "On the first point, yes, you're right. I … apologize," Jeremie thought of the thirtieth floor, swarming with Human Resources staff, sneering behind his back. _You would think he was raised by wolves_ , they would say. Idly, Jeremie thought, _Well, that's not far from the truth._

"On the second point, if your feelings are so easily hurt, applying here is a mistake."

She looked shocked, and this was typical - candidates were so rarely prepared for his directness. She pivoted her gaze from his to the portrait of his father.

"I think … if I allow you to discourage me from applying here, that would be a mistake." She smiled to Jeremie's surprise. "— and," she continued, "If you're so easily putt off by someone calling you out on your own behavior, maybe it's your own feelings that are easily hurt."

A laugh tumbled out of Jeremie's mouth surprising them both. Well then. Perhaps not a totally hapless prey after all.

* * *

The interview went terribly. By all accounts, Jeremie should not have dedicated another moment to thinking about Miss Schaeffer.

Her name was Aelita - she was one year younger than him, a recent graduate with a passable portfolio. She _was_ talented and had an interesting mind, but nothing tantamount to what he would consider to be an asset for him. Her history on paper was suspiciously short and she tried to explain it away with homeschooling and constant relocation courtesy of an eccentric father. When pressed on what made her father so eccentric, she avoided the question altogether and asked him what direction the company was taking with the new contracts they had recently acquired.

This impressed him enough to let the subject go, but not enough to hire her.

There was no reason to - other than to have a pretty face to look at.

Jeremie groaned, why did his mind keep going back to this fact? Yes, she was pretty - but not astoundingly so. Her style of dress was dated, most likely relegated to fast fashion shops. Certainly not tailored.

He wasn't this fickle, this young. A pretty face wasn't enough to veer his interests.

He had been staring at Solitaire for the last 30 minutes, unmoving.

 _If you're so easily putt off by someone calling you out on your own behavior, maybe it's your own feelings that are easily hurt._

He couldn't stop thinking about that - he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Why did he even have a feeling about it to begin with? Jeremie's head was beginning to hurt.

Daily, he sat surrounded by women and men, thirty and forty years his senior, constantly trying to upstage him, impress him, destroy him - none of it phased him. None of their own feelings about his adequacy or lack thereof, to lead the company, had any effect on him. Their feelings were evidence of their own thoughts and limitations, not of his own.

And yet, there was a slice of contrition and loneliness Aelita displayed when he asked about her father, something he could not ignore.

He wanted to sit with her again, to his surprise. He wanted to fill in some blanks before he dismissed her forever.

But, that was fickle in itself. Should he waste her time to occupy his?

Jeremie rifled through Aelita's resume, eyeing her telephone number.

He only paused for a moment more before dialing his secretary's extension.

Raised by wolves indeed.

* * *

He was _impossible_.

Aelita threw her keys on the kitchen counter.

Incredible. What an utter brat. All of her nuanced stories dissolved to dust as soon as he opened his mouth.

What a contemptuous jerk. His interviewing skills were worse than her cooking skills - which was saying something. Aelita opened the refrigerator. Takeaway boxes littered the shelves - she couldn't even tell what was from which place and from when.

She opened her cabinets and spied ramen. The only thing she couldn't overcook or undercook- perfect.

A complete waste of time. He was exactly as depicted in the handful of photos she had found - gangly, with an expression of perpetual disappointment.

How could she ever work with someone like that? All of the prestige in the world wasn't worth it.

"Nope," Aelita muttered to herself.

She had completely made up her mind, and slurping her too hot ramen, she opened her laptop. _You know what_ , she thought to herself, _I dodged a bullet. Good for me - I hope he never calls me. I hope they send me a rejection letter right away!_

Her inbox was full of marketing emails from Forever21 and Ubereats. One particular email sat three lines down.

Oh god, they really _had_ sent her a rejection email right away!

She might as well get it over with. She knew these types of companies employed trackers to signal when a message had been opened. She wondered if the little brat was just waiting for her to open the message, reveling in her disappointment. Or was she too much of a peasant to even be worth the effort? Aelita smirked. She definitely dodged a bullet. He was probably a serial killer.

 _Miss Schaeffer,_

 _We would love to extend an invitation for a follow up interview tomorrow…_

Aelita screamed. She did a little lap around the room, incredulous, excited. Eventually she circled back to the computer, reading the message twice.

She dragged her mouse and clicked 'reply'.

Serial killers weren't that bad … unless you were their target.


	3. Chapter 3

Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn

3 …

It was a Thursday afternoon, sun high in the sky, when Odd Della Robia finally turned to Jeremie and said,

"Okay, look, you do realize that she's a girl - a living, breathing, human being just like us, right?" He paused. "Well, maybe just like me, jury's out whether you're actually human, Einstein."

Their friendship was a strange thing, accidental. They crossed paths on a very similar Thursday in the lobby of the building his company currently occupied. Odd was chatting up the girl at the front desk and while Jeremie had every intention of walking right past him, Odd stopped, turned to him and said, "Hey kid, you lost or something?"

Jeremie simply kept walking, not even considering the possibility that he was talking to him until Odd walked right up to him and jabbed a finger in his chest.

"Hey, kid," he said again, loudly. "Are you trying to find your parents or something? Do you want me to get security?"

"You're confused," Jeremie replied stiffly.

"Uh … no," Odd smirked at him. "You look like you should be at home watching Pokemon or something - where are your parents?"

"I'm quite certain we're the same age," Jeremie shot back, offended and annoyed.

"You're _quite_ _certain_?" Odd tipped his head back, laughed. "Okay, _Einstein._ "

"Also," Jeremie continued, disconcerted. "I'm taller than _you."_

Jeremie later learned Odd was the son of some conglomerate with an office two floors below. The difference between the sons of two rich men couldn't have been clearer, but there they were, parallel in the same world.

The memory felt close, as if it wasn't almost four years ago.

The sun glinted off the stylus Jeremie had been gripping for the better part of an hour. It wasn't like him to be so sentimental. What relevance did that memory have now?

But Jeremie knew that there was nothing more clever than a mind seeking diversion.

"She's very ordinary," Jeremie said after a moment. "Very, very ordinary. Typical. However - I had some questions about her background and have been unable to find any record of her or her father previous to six years ago. It's vexing."

"Oh, so you're interested in her because she's probably a fugitive, _got it_."

"No," Jeremie sighed. _No,_ he wanted to say, _I don't care - I'm not sure why she still exists for me. There was something sad about her face._

There it was again, that sentimentality. Was it his father's death that had him thinking so much of so little?

"When is she coming again? I want to make sure I'm here for this."

Jeremie looked at Odd's face. There was such amusement there, it was almost serene. But Jeremie knew better and had looked deeper, Odd was apt at concealing his true intentions. He knew he was worried about him, after all, wasn't he his only friend in the world? If Odd didn't worry about him, who would?

"Today," Jeremie's voice was flat, and he sighed.

A knock at the door only punctuated the silence.

"Oh, it's time." Odd took a quick glance at the clock on the wall. "I better get going. I'm pretty sure I'm about two hours late to a very important board meeting."

His smirk was glaring, his salute nonchalant if you weren't looking closely enough. Underneath it was all sardonic and self deprecating.

The door opened and in stepped the only girl in the world that Jeremie openly feared.

Dressed in what could only be described as _tight_ , Yumi Ishiyama tossed her slick hair back, slipped her jacket off, and waved at Odd.

One year older than him, she somehow had discovered how to shift the weight of the world with just her gaze. She could pin you down, she could unmake you.

"Ready to sweat?" She smiled cheerily.

'Good luck with the personal trainer' Odd mouthed as he walked through the threshold.

Jeremie looked at the clock. Three hours until Aelita would occupy the same space, breath the same air. The thought made him dizzy.

Face blank, he looked up at Yumi.

"Yes, I'm ready."

—

Okay, Aelita said to herself. I need something that says…

 _You should be glad I decided to grace you with my presence._

No, no. That sounded too much like that little brat.

 _I could be anywhere else because I have so many job offers._

Okay he was a jerk but he wasn't stupid. What position could possibly compare to this internship?

 _I may be poor, but at this pencil skirt from H &M _could be _Ann Taylor._

Yes - that was it. She snagged her only pencil skirt from a hanger and a blouse that she only wore on special occasions.

Her hair was slowly creeping behind her ears, but still too short to do anything remotely manageable with it. Instead, Aelita tucked it behind her ears with bobby pins and hoped for the best.

She pursed her lips and applied lipstick as she checked to make sure she hadn't left the stove on for the fifth time.

The air was hot inside the subway car as she made her way downtown. It was twelve stops until she reached the street where the lofty building stood. She knew it so well but she checked the subway map across from her again and again.

She was so nervous, so excited. This could be the opportunity of a lifetime.

Her fingers touched her headphones idly.

In her ears Billie Eilish sang, '… _are you death or paradise…'_

This was her time to invent her fictions, let her imagination run wild. But she couldn't stop thinking of Jeremie Belpois, exactly as he was.

Rude, dismissing, social skills clearly lacking and maybe … a little lonely.

There she went again, superimposing fantasy over reality.

How could he be lonely? Surrounded by everything he could ever want, obeyed by everyone around him.

It was then that Aelita made remembered the promise she made when her father abruptly said over breakfast one morning, _Aelita, darling, I must be off. You'll likely not see me for some time, but trust me this is all for the best_.

At twelve, this was both shocking and unbelievable to her.

But he really had gone and not returned. For a moment, Aelita felt the echo of that familiar pain bubble in her throat. So welcome, like an old friend. Her throat tightened, and Aelita forced herself to remember where she was, _when_ she was.

 _You're not that kid anymore_ , she reminded herself furiously. Of all the things that have happened, _Jeremie Belpois will_ not _be the end of you_.

—

He knew she was there, his secretary had promptly reminded him.

The distance was minor, all he had to do was ask his secretary to let her through.

Jeremie's mind was fuzzy, he wondered if Yumi knew how many beats per minute was acceptable before someone went into cardiac arrest. She probably did know it and relished in taking her clients as close to the cliff as possible.

His phone buzzed, a message from Odd.

 _Just saw the girl, legs for day my friend. If you don't hire her, I will._

 _No,_ and a shock of an emotion Jeremie did not know he could feel pressed in his chest. _She's mine to unravel_.

He pressed the buzzer on the antiquated phone, a fossil from his father's reign.

"Let her in."


End file.
